


About Khadgar

by justaddglitter



Category: Warcraft (2016), Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-03 15:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8719204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justaddglitter/pseuds/justaddglitter
Summary: People noticing things about Khadgar.Topics may vary





	1. Girls

**Author's Note:**

> This is a wiriting exercise. I really need to learn how to write consistently and actually finish something, starting with shorter stuff and hopefully working up the courage to finish multi-chapter stories.
> 
> DISCLAIMER  
> I don’t own any of the following characters. They are the property of Blizzard Entertainment and are not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

The first of many Noblegarden balls rang in the season of spring. With all of the visiting families, equally wealthy and aristocratic alike, the Great Hall once again honored its name by accommodating everybody without causing feelings of claustrophobia.

Among the throngs of people - dancing, drinking and conversing - Anduin had, strangely enough, found a moment of privacy...basically, it was the first five minutes of the evening, where nobody bothered him, but he knew a thing or two about gift horses. So, he allowed his eyes to roam around the room, taking in the scenery.

The royal couple was moving effortlessly across the dancefloor, looking more at ease than in any of the previous weeks since Varian's birthday. Times were dire, yet events such as this offered them small escapes from reality.

Spotting the crown prince among the crowd proved to be more difficult due to his size, nonetheless, Anduin knew that Callan had agreed to shadow his cousin tonight. And what kind of father would he be, if he weren't able to discern the back of his son's head from anybody else's? It was also helpful that Callan, like all men of their line, was a bit taller than average. He eventually caught sight of his son near the far end of the hall, where the sitting area and some board games had been put up.

He chuckled. Of course, Varian would find a poor victim to play chess with him. According to Llane, the boy had gotten much better at it since Khadgar had bestowed the most amazing enchanted chessboard on Varian as a birthday gift on him.

Looking over the sea of heads, Anduin found that Medivh wasn't as easy to spot when he didn't bother bringing his staff along, but he would notice his lover’s laughter anywhere. He would deny it, but seeing Medivh at ease, laughing and bantering with some of their guests did a little stupid something with his heart. He was happy. They were happy. Together. No more loneliness for either of them and it was all thanks to a stubborn, recalcitrant, scraggly bearded teenager who had become an inherent part of Anduin’s life.

_Now where is the boy when he’s not with Med?_

Khadgar was not too fond of crowds, but he was slowly - aggravatingly slowly - growing accustomed to them. In the beginning of their new living arrangements at Stormwind Keep, the boy had always managed to silently excuse himself from any sort of festivities.

Alas, as weeks had turned into months and months into nearly a year, Khadgar would now at least tolerate the pressure these social events put on him for a little longer than before. And it wasn’t that the boy was stupid or didn’t know how to hold his own in a conversation - he would even argue with the king just to get a certain point across, very entertaining to watch - he was just socially awkward.

The Kirin Tor had not done anything to prepare their students for small talk or striking up a conversation that didn’t concern the chemical composition of mountain crystals and their usage. To this day, Khadgar had not set foot on the dancefloor once and judging by the fact that he threatened to sheep - or worse - anybody daring to force him, it wouldn’t happen anytime soon, either. Anduin wasn’t too keen on finding out what or worse meant, yet he was confident that given time, and perhaps a proper teacher for social graces, things would work out. They had to work out because, even though Khadgar was nervous around people, people weren’t nervous around him. Especially not...

Anduin chuckled lightly when he spotted the boy surrounded by several young ladies, who were probably around Khadgar’s age. He was talking animatedly to them, using his hands to most likely illustrate the function of a spell or the meaning of a rune. The girls were looking eagerly at him. Their spell-chucker was definitely also a spellbinder.     

Khadgar was good with girls, Anduin noticed out of the blue, at least better than most boys his age. The kid did not fear the female gender, he was polite and respectful towards the young ladies looking to converse with him...or, judging by the looks of it, more often than not to dally. A visiting lady was literally pushing her cleavage at him, yet the boy did not even seem to notice. He wasn't dense. Khadgar was highly perceptive, he must be noticing, right?

Now, he had to admit, while Khadgar was good with girls, the kid seemed to have no idea about making a move. Anduin was pretty sure that, if the young mage ever were to be physical with one of the ladies at court, or any other lady for that matter, he would know of it within the hour. Word travelled fast and gossip even faster. If the orcish invasion had been of any social relevance, they would have awaited the foreigners with their entire army the moment they stepped onto the soil of Black Morass.

Perhaps the boy just needed a bit of assistance. After all, the Kirin Tor were not known for appreciating romance among their kind. They even forbade it. It wasn't forbidden in Stormwind, though, and Khadgar had renounced his vows.

Contemplating the situation, he didn't strike Anduin as a prude by any means. Yes, the boy showed some discomfort with changing in front of others - the road did not always allow for privacy - but most people outside the military did that as well.

Maybe he should give him some hints as to what to do. The boy just wasn't familiar with the rules of this game, yet. First Dalaran, then Karazhan and now Stormwind? The royal court of Azeroth at that? Anduin should give him a proper introduction, lay out the ground rules, explain the do’s and dont’s. Show him the ropes, so to speak. Perhaps the boy just thought it inappropriate, if he engaged with somebody or perhaps inexperience prohibited him from enjoying himself a little. And the kid deserved some joy in his life. A bit of relaxation at the hands of a woman could be just right for him.

He wasn't hard on the eye, either. Sure, he had indulged a little over the past few months which he had spent at court, but he was 17 and he would outgrow the bit of extra weight soon enough. Of course, Taria would also have to stop sending delectable goodies into the library. Maybe that was it? Khadgar had displayed self-consciousness before, but again, he was merely 17. Thrown into a war, thrown into a royal court, with responsibilities weighing on his shoulders that would break any lesser man. A bit of training and less pastries courtesy of the queen ought to do the trick quickly. Maybe even bring some muscle to show, if that would make him more comfortable.

“Is there a reason for you to be eying my apprentice like that?” Medivh still took great pleasure in appearing out of thin air to simply startle people, it seemed, nonetheless Anduin was used to his mage’s antics by now.

“He's good with girls,” he stated off-handedly while nodding into Khadgar’s direction.

“Of course, he is,” Medivh’s eyes shone fondly, as they tended to do whenever someone noticed his apprentice’s talents, “he possesses a natural charm that attracts other people. He may not have the slightest idea how to use it, but he’s still smart and eloquent. It is not always about brute strength and flashing your achievements at the fairer gender, love. Some people actually appreciate an intelligent conversation. I most certainly do.” He nipped innocently at his drink, while Anduin settled on glaring at him.

“What I meant,” and he knew that his partner was joking, but he still gritted his teeth, “was that he's good with girls, yet he never shows any interest beyond conversation. A conversation they usually strike up.”

“So? The maidens’ mothers don’t find anything wrong with that.”

“Come on, Med,” he exhaled audibly, “he’s young. He has to be curious, right? He has got to have needs like the rest of us.”

Medivh merely rolled his eyes. “Maybe he's just more in control of his needs as you like to put it. The Kirin Tor are strict in their ways.”

“But he renounced his vows.”

Now, Anduin received a look that had surely been meant for a petulant child. “Has it occurred to you that seeking the satisfaction of lesser physical desires may have nothing to do with his decision to leave Dalaran?”

“So, he doesn't want to? I don't believe that. I should talk to him.” Anduin didn’t like to admit how much the boy had grown onto him, but even Callan had joked that he wouldn’t mind him as an official little brother. That had been followed by an argument between the boys because, obviously, _Callan was only two years older_ (Khadgar) while Khadgar _hadn’t really realized that two years equalled so much more knowledge and experience_ (Callan). Callan had ended up as a rooster, since he had been unheeding when having wrestled Khadgar to the ground and forgotten to cover the mage’s mouth. _Boys_.

“Do as you wish, just don't pressure him into activities he’s not comfortable with,” Medivh sent him a warning look that vanished in a split-second as they were approached by the Earl of Brightwood and his currently favored beau.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hours later, when Anduin was finally able to detach himself from a tiring conversation about some lord’s great skill in basket weaving, he immediately sought out one of the smaller balconies adjacent to the Great Hall. To his surprise, the platform was already occupied by a certain young mage.

“Of course, you would be here,” he smiled at the boy. It was way past midnight and Khadgar had perfected escaping festivities from balconies.

“Just getting some fresh air,” the boy shrugged, casually leaning against the balustrade. He looked worn. The amount of social interaction had obviously been stressful for him. Ah, that reminded Anduin…

“Some fresh air, huh? I guess you need that after the ladies doused you in wafts of their perfumes,” he joked a little to breach the subject. That way Khadgar ought to know that this wasn’t a lecture.

Khadgar frowned at him, wrinkling his nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Of course, the kid would pick now to be thick. “Nothing, I just noticed that you had acquired a bit of company earlier.”

“Yeah, some people were talking to me. It’s been awhile since there were mages attending court. A few of them mentioned family members studying in Dalaran,” he made an offhand gesture, “they were curious about me, I guess.”

“Well, yes, the young ladies looked pretty interested,” he took a deep gulp of his wine, allowing the dry liquid to burn on his tongue before throwing subtlety into the wind, “and how about you? Aren't you curious about any of them?” Perhaps he had had one too many drinks already.

He received another frown, but then, he was able to see realization settling into Khadgar’s mind. A pink blush began to spread from the boy’s pale cheeks over his entire face.

_Great_ , Anduin cursed inwardly, he hadn't meant for that to happen. Especially not in a place where they could be disturbed any minute by some clueless guest. He wanted to offer the kid encouragement, not embarrassment.

“That's not really any of your business, Lothar,” Khadgar mumbled awkwardly to the ground, refusing to look up and meet the man’s eye.

“I know, I know,” Anduin jumped at the opportunity to do damage control, “you're old enough to make decisions on your own. Buuuuut,” and while stretching the word, he glanced around to make sure that nobody accidentally overheard their conversation, “if you decided that you wanted to…”

“Lothar!” Khadgar interrupted him, his head now an alarmingly crimson color. “I really don't want your advice on matters that are absolutely not your concern.”

He should have stopped drinking after the fifth glass. Definitely after the sixth. How many glasses of wine had he emptied already? Because he opened his big mouth yet again. “Alright,” he raised his hands placably, “I just wanted to make sure that…”

“Anduin?” The queen stepped onto the landing. “Ah, there you are, I,” upon noticing Khadgar, worry washed over her features, “is everything alright?”

Khadgar appeared ready to melt into the floor. There was certainly enough heat coloring his face to make that happen. Oh, the poor boy. He hadn’t meant for this to happen, he swore.

“Yes, it's all good,” he quickly put himself between her and the boy, shielding him from her view, “we were just talking a bit.”

“About what?” Taria crossed her arms, fixing him with a stern glare only a mother could muster. She was protective of the young mage and his unnatural face color definitely intrigued her.

“The commander was so kind as to enlighten me about proper court etiquette, Your Royal Highness,” Khadgar's voice was steady enough despite his obvious discomfort with the situation, “I’m still not too familiar with all the customs at court, You see.”

Anduin thanked the Light that the boy could think on his feet and fast. Telling his sister about their actual topic wouldn't have been...he didn’t want to dwell too much on that thought. Her son was 10, so she probably had about a year or two left before having to worry about _strange new feelings_ and amorous excursions.

_“You_ explain _court_ _etiquette_?” Her elegant brows nearly met her hairline.

Pretending offense, Anduin squared his jaw. “I have been a member of this court longer than you,” he countered, hopefully diverting her attention from the boy to himself.

“Brother, you are but a year older than me.”

“That's an entire year of more experience,” he proclaimed, knowing fully well that she would not accept their marginal difference in age as a reasonable argument. Oh, curse their late father for having remarried immediately after Anduin's mother had died in childbed.

Age had never worked as an argument with Taria.

“The king has requested your presence. Several lords wish to learn more about the Dwarven boomsticks,” her tone inclined that this discussion was far from over, yet she could not let the king, let alone potential allies, wait for too long.

Anduin accepted the Light’s grace on his presence.

“I shouldn't let them wait then,” he was aware of the fact that he shouldn't grin, however he still did. His sister had only become queen to torment him, mark his words.

“Come on, spell-chucker,” he put an arm around the kid’s shoulders and pushed him past his sister. His features were a far more normal color now. A bit too pale maybe. Again, they would have to discuss leaving his beloved library at one point in the future to greet the outside world and the sun. “Let's introduce you to some really boring people.”

He ignored the pointed look his sister directed at his back as she followed them with regal composure.

Anduin wouldn't leave the kid to be interrogated by Taria of all people.

Girls were one thing. Sisters, mothers and queens another.


	2. Atiesh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another writing exercise - quick and short without overthinking it.
> 
> DISCLAIMER  
> I don’t own any of the following characters. They are the property of Blizzard Entertainment and are not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Atiesh had once been crafted by Alodi, the first Guardian of Azeroth. No existing staff had seemed worthy of the Guardian's ownership, hence Alodi had decided to demonstrate his powers by creating his staff from the Seed of Hatred itself and naming it Atiesh.

As time passed and one Guardian was replaced by another, Atiesh became a symbol, much like the Guardian's mantle. Its wielders could pull from its power in times of need, but such exchange came at a price. The longer they used Atiesh, the more they relied on it, the stronger grew their spiritual connection. Even after the guardians deceased, a part of their soul, an echo, would always remain within Atiesh, thus connecting all Guardians to each other, saving their knowledge and remnants their power. Through its raven eyes, the former guardians were still able to see and to feel the present.

People sought to own Atiesh, sought to touch it, to quench their thirst for power. However, after the people daring enough to lay so much as a finger on the staff without the Guardian's permission had vanished,  fallen into madness or died harrowingly, they became more cautious.

Atiesh was vengeful. With the Seed of Hatred at its core, it had never been a welcoming spirit. Yet when young Medivh had laid hands on it for the first time, the staff had accepted its new wielder, despite having sensed another presence within the boy.

Something dark and powerful.

Something that should not be.

Something the former Guardians’ echos both feared and loathed. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The apprentices the Kirin Tor send are arrogant. They are blinded by the promise of power beyond their wildest imagination. Those who risk to touch Atiesh regret it quickly, as all of them catch a mysterious disease and must leave again. The Magus doesn’t care for any of them, his mind weakens as the other one grows stronger.

Then, there is the boy. The last one they send. The first one the master - the human - truly accepts. Through its raven kin, Atiesh watches him intently, allowing its former wielders glimpses of dark brown curls and bright blue eyes. The boy is bright. Radiant, even. And pure. 

When he walks among the rows of ancient tomes, his fingers lingering lovingly on one of the spines every now and then, he doesn’t seek out the most valuable ones. He doesn’t seek out the most dangerous ones. He doesn’t seek out the most powerful ones. All he does, is to seek out knowledge for knowledge’s sake. Every line of information is met with the same amount of curiosity as the one before. 

The boy is confident in his abilities, yet humble about them. He will even conjure bread and water for Atiesh’s raven kin. And he doesn’t rat on the inner workings of Karazhan to the Kirin Tor like his predecessors did.

The spirit fragments within the great staff find him acceptable.

Unfortunately, as this one shows greater respect for the Guardian than the others, he never dares to even reach for Atiesh. When he looks at the staff, there is only admiration and not the usual glint of hunger for power. 

It takes a while, but eventually, as the master deems the boy worthy, he gets to hold the great staff. The way the boy holds it is almost tentative, careful even, not as though he is holding a dead thing but a living being.

Within seconds, the staff attunes its energy to the boy and soon enough, through a dream of black feathers, it teaches the boy the art of flight in raven form.

When the master notices, he is pleased yet worried. The presence is slowly becoming aware of the boy and might attempt to reach for him.

Deep within Atiesh, Alodi’s echo prepares a vision for the boy.

A vision that will cause him to leave Karazhan.

For he is their only hope against the darkness hollowing the Guardian’s body and mind. 


	3. Rhonin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More exercising - I need to write faster and stop pondering over every single word until I question its very existence and get nothing done.
> 
> As you may have noticed, some things are about Khadgar but also without Khadgar. I hope that makes sense.
> 
> Thank you for the hits, kudos, comments and bookmarks. That's really kind of you.
> 
> DISCLAIMER  
> I don’t own any of the following characters. They are the property of Blizzard Entertainment and are not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Medivh bit the inside of his cheeks yet again, as his apprentice continued to enthusiastically explain one of the many spells Rhonin had had him perform during practice earlier that day to one of the guests at the dinner table.

He would not comment on the fact that he would have used them in a different order. Obviously, Rhonin was a highly capable mage and Stormwind could be glad that they had gained him as an instructor for their military after his falling out with the Kirin Tor. Azeroth’s armies needed more than simple weaponry to win this war. Mages joining the ranks would strengthen them and hopefully provide enough power to keep the Orcs at bay.

Llane would have never hired Rhonin had it not been for Medivh recommending him.

He would not regret his choice.

Rhonin was smart, powerful and charismatic. He would provide an excellent education for the mages who had decided that they wanted to serve Azeroth in this time of need.

Had Medivh known that one of those mages would be his own apprentice, he might have reconsidered.

In the aftermath of the war, he had recovered from his possession and begun working alongside the king to secure Azeroth. Through Sargeras, he had seen that the Legion would eventually invade their world, one way or another. The portal from Draenor had merely been the easiest option, a low-hanging fruit so to speak.

As his days had been spent either at the war or at the bargaining table, he had not been able to oversee the progress his Trust had made with his magic. Diligently, the boy had worked his way through various scrolls, books and projects all without his master’s supervision. Medivh had to admit that Khadgar was old enough to enjoy the freedom of independent studying as it would prepare him for the years following his apprenticeship.

His stomach lurched whenever he thought of his Trust leaving his care.

Eventually though, he had come to realize that in order to fulfill his potential, Khadgar had needed to actually apply the spells he had learnt from the books and for that, he had been in need of supervision.

He would not curse Anduin for having suggested that Khadgar should just practice with Rhonin. And he would not grind his teeth when he remembered how he had eagerly agreed.

Khadgar had been hesitant at first, unwilling to disrespect his master by studying under the guidance of another mage, but that seemed long gone.

He had taken to Rhonin’s teaching like a duck to water. And, of course, Rhonin had taken to his boy. How could he not? His Trust was kind, intelligent, quick-witted and a fast learner.

What had started as a tentative arrangement for his apprentice to exercise practical spell application, had soon grown into a bond between the two Kirin Tor delinquents.

Every day, Khadgar would avidly inform him how amazing practice wit Rhonin had been. How Rhonin had coached him through a particularly difficult spell. How Rhonin thought that he would soon be ready for casting without using words. How Rhonin planned on getting him into shape for battle.

He would not be envious of the obvious admiration the boy held for Rhonin.

And he would not be jealous when Rhonin always reported on Khadgar’s vast progress and how much he enjoyed teaching the boy.

The fact that Rhonin had so far not taken an apprentice did not bother him, either.

“Medivh,” Llane whispered as he leant towards him at the table, halting his train of thoughts immediately, “could you please stop glaring at the silverware like that? I don’t want things to catch fire.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he attempted a polite smile, yet he knew that it was more on the sheepish side, “I was simply distracted for a moment.”

“Because your boy is talking about that redhead again?” He sat up slightly, not having expected his friend to take notice of his situation. The king was busy managing a country at the brink of war, surely there were more important things than his friends’ personal plights. “Why is that even bothering you so much?”

“It isn’t bothering me, Your Majesty,” he kept his voice low to avoid unwanted attention. Or any attention for that matter.

“Good, because it shouldn’t be,” Llane cut up a piece of his steak and made a show of chewing very slowly and carefully, clearly relishing the fact that his friend had taken the bait and was eagerly waiting for him to reel in the snell.

“And why would that be?” When the king had the audacity to take the knife to his food yet again, entirely ignoring the questioning stare he was receiving from his side, Medivh found himself forced to ask. Sometimes he wondered why they were even friends.

“Do you remember when we were young and you would have gladly spent all of your time in the library?” Llane looked at him now, muffling the words behind a goblet of wine. Their king was subtle, a most graceful character trait many monarchs lacked.

“I remember both you and Anduin annoying me until I agreed to join you doing stupid things.”

“Besides from that,” the king smiled fondly at the memory of days long past, “what did you do, whenever you had learnt a new spell or come across a new mystery waiting to be solved?”

“I told my father, of course,” Medivh suppressed the dark shadow his late father would always cast on his soul.

“And why did you do that?” Llane regarded him carefully, his gaze carrying meaning that Medivh was not quite able to understand.

“Because I wanted him to know what I had found and to share it with him. I wanted to make him prou…,” his breathing faltered for a second as he looked at Khadgar seated a few feet away from him before returning his attention to the king.

“And what did our tutors do, when we progressed well with our lessons?”

“They would inform our parents,” he reached for the drink placed in front of him.

“Exactly,” Llane raised his own goblet slightly as though they were clinking, “that’s why you shouldn’t worry.”

Medivh returned the gesture, sipping wine steadily from the silver chalice.

The next time he looked over to his Trust, he felt warmth spreading through his chest and he knew that it wasn’t coming from the liquor.


	4. Horses - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another little something - the goal here was to practice editing and to stay around the one page mark. I managed a page and two lines, so I was successful, although this "Horses"-thing is going to be several parts, I guess.
> 
> Thank you all for your kindness on this work, thus far.
> 
> DISCLAIMER  
> I don’t own any of the following characters. They are the property of Blizzard Entertainment and are not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

“I don’t care much for horses.”

Khadgar was no horseman that much was clear in Anduin’s mind. He wasn’t quite sure, if the Kirin Tor even had any need for steeds, given that the more advanced mages could simply teleport from one place to another.

Oftentimes, when people weren’t used to horses, they would be anxious around them due to their size. They were strong animals, after all and could appear rather intimidating. At least 30 percent of their new recruits had absolutely no experience with horses, making grooming and riding lessons mandatory...if they could spare the time and the mounts. Unfortunately, as the war had proven thus far, horses, much like men, didn’t grow on trees and weren’t trained by sunshine alone.

Khadgar was calm around their mounts, though and Anduin thought that he would like to improve his skill in this particular field. Also, it would give him an excuse to lure the boy out of the library and allow for spending some quality time with him away from court. So when he offered him lessons during a stay at Eastvale Logging Camp, he found himself dumbstruck upon Khadgar’s refusal. Dumbstruck to the point where he didn’t question the boy’s decision, albeit feeling slightly offended.

Nonetheless, the questions arose the following day.

As their patrol came to an end, the spires of Stormwind greeting their party with brightly glistening shingles in the golden light of a spring afternoon, he allowed his gaze to sway from the road ahead and to sweep over his companions. Eventually, he would linger on the kid riding a few feet ahead of him and he remembered their conversation from the previous day.

Khadgar was generally good with horses, he noticed. As always, the kid sat a tad bit slouched because how was he supposed to read with his head held up high? Anduin suppressed the chuckle building in his throat, yet he still smiled. Khadgar had enough faith in his mount that he would willingly divert his attention to a book rather than his surroundings. He was completely trusting the animal to do its job. 

His posture wasn’t too shabby, either. Sure, sooner or later, he would develop a hump if he kept on arching his back like that, but his legs and feet were definitely in the right position. He kept his calves and heels against his mare’s sides without adding any pressure. Firm, but gentle.

In one hand, he was holding one of his beloved tomes, while the other rested on the horn of the saddle, holding the reigns. He was holding them a bit loosely, Anduin spotted, yet when his mare made to snap at the tail of another horse wagging close to her face, his fingers would curl up at once and tighten their hold, reminding his mount that she ought to play nice and slowing her slightly in her gait to put a bit of distance between her and the offending appendage.

Anduin wondered where the boy had picked up the ability he displayed thus far. He had not been in Stormwind long enough to receive a lot of practical in-depth experience with horses. Yet, he knew how to groom a horse if necessary. He knew how to saddle and to bid. He knew how to avoid being tossed around every which way during a faster pace. Of course, knowing that the boy had lived on the road for some time after he had left Karazhan, Anduin figured that perhaps he had worked as a stablehand somewhere. Unfortunately, Khadgar never spoke much about this chapter of his life, hence it was all simply speculation.

So why was Khadgar not interested in horses? Yes, in retrospect Anduin had to admit, he wasn’t overly affectionate towards whatever horse was assigned to him, but he wasn’t cruel to them, either. Anduin highly doubted that the boy would even be able to portray any sort of cruelty, whatsoever.

Still, he felt like there was more to it than Khadgar let on and he was determined to find out, what the boy was hiding.


	5. Marked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one-shot that's kind of a personal lore-filler. To all the lore-hounds out there, please don't be angry, if this doesn't fit in with any current canon lore. It's just meant to entertain.  
> This one is also a bit darker, I guess. I still hope that you like it. 
> 
> Again, thank you for your hits, kudos, comments and bookmarks.
> 
> DISCLAIMER  
> I don’t own any of the following characters. They are the property of Blizzard Entertainment and are not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Callan inclined his head in thanks towards their captain upon receiving a glass of rum on his behalf.

Their troop had finished their tour that day and, as tradition among soldiers had it, that meant that they ought to get a drink together at the _Pigs &_ _Whistles_. As always, the highest ranking officer would shout some pricier drinks - a _special order_ \- for the one’s who had already earned their stripes. And, as always, the rookies and younger soldiers would argue that they had worked just as hard and therefore were just as deserving as everyone else.

Except for Khadgar.

Looking at the mage sitting to his left, Callan noticed with a pang of anger that he had not received an additional beverage and was still nursing his ale carefully. Khadgar didn’t like ale much, he recalled, the fizzy brew didn’t bode well with his stomach. Still, he tried.

One of the rookies made to get up to the bar to buy a drink for himself, yet the seniors surrounding him stopped him in his tracks.

Certain tradition were not to be messed with, Callan knew from experience.

His bloodline was full of soldiers, warriors and great leaders. There had never been a generation of Lothars without at least one person in the military and their line was old. Hence, when Callan had joined the military at age 13, he had had to work his ass off to get out of his father’s and pretty much his entire family’s shadow. As a “ _palace boy_ ” or a “ _Lordling_ ” he had and still faced a lot of prejudice. Nonetheless, with a bit of pride, Callan remembered that he had gotten his first special order at 16...and a half, but that really wasn’t important.

Khadgar had probably earned the right for a drink years ago, as well. It bothered him that the mage did not receive the recognition he deserved. Yes, he might not be military, at least not officially, however his magic had proven more than useful to ensure their safety. He suppressed a scowl, silently cursing his uncle for veiling the happenings at Karazhan in silence. He felt for his friend. The Guardian’s shadow was an imposing one. It would only be right, if people knew what Khadgar had done for them.

Across from him, Sanderson was bragging about getting a tattoo to declare his undying love for his Margerine. The entire group groaned. They had already spent way too many evenings gathered around the campfire having listened to Sanderson’s love-stricken rants. The kid was 17, for Light’s sake!

“You sure about that, lad?” Their captain, Arlan Cromer, asked wryly. “Wouldn’t trust a needle swinger, if they were to take coin from minors.”

“I’m old enough to get one,” Sanderson crossed his arms, looking like a petulant child which wasn’t helping him at all, “Khadgar’s also got one and he his only a year older than me.”

Now, some of the people at their table were dead-silent at his statement. Of course, Callan knew about the mark, but it seemed not all of his fellow soldiers had been aware. Even Captain Cromer looked intrigued.

“You’ve got a tattoo, kid?” He inquired with a curious smile.

“It’s not a tattoo,” Khadgar replied while rolling up his left sleeve to reveal the glistening eye of the Kirin Tor on the inside of his forearm, “it’s a mark. It works without ink.”

“And they give those to all the mages in Dalaran?” The guys all craned their necks to get a better look at the symbol on Khadgar’s skin. Even a barmaid halted to have a peek.

“Yes, well, they give it to you once you’ve advanced to a certain level within the order,” there was a slight blush blossoming on his cheeks, as so much attention was directed at him.

“And when is that?” Sanderson obviously hadn’t realized yet that there was a huge difference between the Kirin Tor and the military forces of Azeroth.

“I got mine when I was 11.”

“You were 11?! You were a kid!” Grayham exclaimed, while others jested that he still was a kid and chuckled in disbelief. “You sure about that, mage? A bit young now, don’t you think?”

“It was pretty early, I’ve got to admit,” Khadgar was now positively blushing, “but that’s when I became a Guardian Novitiate and the mark is kind of a requirement for that position, so,” he shrugged, “ it’s a tradition. The ones eligible for this position must be marked to demonstrate their loyalty to the order.”

“And how did they do it? If it’s not a tattoo, then what? Do ya mages just cast a spell and ‘poof, there ya go’?”

“No, it’s not like that, I mean,” he traced the handle of his flagon with his fingers and Callan noticed a shift in his demeanor. Khadgar never spoke much of his time with the Kirin Tor. “There is some spell work involved, but the mark itself is no magic.”

“So, how does it work?”

Callan was about to tell his comrade to drop it, as the topic clearly made the mage uncomfortable, nonetheless Khadgar beat him to it.

“When you’ve reached a certain level, you are called before the Council of Six,” Khadgar directed his eyes at his drink, even though his gaze seemed far away, “they inform you that they deem you ready to receive the mark and then, they send you to the Healers’ so they can start preparing you,” he smacked his lips slowly, “in order for the mark to take, you have to take some precautions. You need to be in good health, for once. Then, since the mark latches onto your mana, you need a strong flow that day. So, usually, you’re not allowed to use any magic for about a week or so, but that depends on the individual. Everybody’s different. Some only need a few days, others more than a week. The healers will therefore test your flow every day by using needles to draw bits of blood and mana from you.”

Every single person at their table was silently listening. Khadgar could be a powerful speaker, yet the _Pigs & Whistles_ seemed to drown his uncannily dreary voice.

“About three days before the procedure takes place, they will adjust your diet. Your body needs to be free of any toxins, so your nutrition is reduced to a special herbal tea and spring water,” he snorted softly, “the tea tastes like crap but some of its ingredients help greatly with the hunger, so you best drink it with your nose closed to actually keep from throwing it up again.”

By now, the barmaid which had been tending to them had also stopped at their table, regarding the young mage sympathetically.

“And once you’ve done all of that, you are taken to a chamber deep beneath Violet Hold,” he took a gulp of his ale, much deeper than Callan had ever seen him do before. If he hadn’t gotten a sense of foreboding already, this would be it. “Once you are down there, they show you what they’re actually going to do with you. You see, they use a special rod crafted from an immense mana crystal to mark you. Have you ever seen a branding iron? It kind of looks like that, but it doesn’t work with fire. Instead, one of the Six will cast a spell to power the head up until it glows so brightly, you cannot even look at it anymore.”

Again, Khadgar downed some more of his ale, wetting his tongue. Around them, the overall noises seemed to have quieted down.

“They lead you to a table, strap you down, give some leather to bite down on and tell you what a great honor it is to receive the mark,” Khadgar’s voice had taken on a cynical undertone, “if you’re lucky, you pass out from the pain and once you wake up, everything is over. You’ve got your mark and after a couple more days at the healing ward, you are good to return to your normal schedule.”

“What if you aren’t lucky?” Captain Cromer whispered the question all of them must have been thinking. The tavern was silent enough to clearly hear the fire crackling across the room.

“Well,” he wetted his lips with his tongue, “if your mana reserves weren’t high enough, then the mark won’t take and you’ll have to undergo the whole process again. That would be the best worst case. If something goes wrong during the procedure, they can always stop it, but, depending on what goes wrong, it might do enough damage to render you disabled for life. It doesn’t happen often, though. Still, you know, it can also happen that, if there’s not enough mana, the mark will instead latch onto your lifeforce as a source of energy, which can kill you, even if the process is interrupted.”

“Can kill you,” Cromer repeated humorlessly. The others at their table appeared mildly disturbed by this information.

“Yeah,” Khadgar nodded more at his drink than at the captain, “there were also reports of a reversed effect, where applying the crystal to the skin would amplify the person’s natural mana reserves and well,” he cleared his throat, “in the books, they referred to it as _Pink Mist_. The mana levels escalate and the body, well,” he made a motion with his hand, indicating an explosion, “if that happens, there’s nothing left of you, only a pink mist.”

“And you don’t say no, because...?” Sanderson rubbed his arms nervously, evidently rethinking his great idea to get tattooed.

“Because being chosen to bear the mark means to be considered worthy of representing the order,” judging by how high he was lifting the flagon, Khadgar swallowed the dregs of his ale by now, “it’s a _great honor_ , after all.”

They let the words sink in before the captain motioned for the barmaid.

“Another round, this time bring some rum for him, too,” he said, nodding towards Khadgar.

The mage accepted his drink gracefully and when he took his first sip, Callan noticed that he didn’t grimace despite the rum being strong, yet he would save the questions for later. Khadgar had earned his stripes long before this evening and it was good to know that people finally acknowledged his sacrifices for their well-being.

  
From now on, Khadgar would always receive a special order.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it <3


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